


Pawns

by YouCantKeepMeDown



Series: Mafia Archangels [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Attempted Blackmail, Bartender Dean Winchester, Kidnapping, M/M, Mobster Michael, they're all idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 01:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13400721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown/pseuds/YouCantKeepMeDown
Summary: It probably only was a matter of time that someone tries to kidnapp Dean to get to his boyfriend. But Michael is set on showing them what a big mistake that was.





	Pawns

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the SPN AU and Trope Bingo. Square: Mafia!AU
> 
> Finally, here's the thing with Abaddon.
> 
> As always, thanks to my wonderful beta read Coplins!

Dean pulls on the zip ties that tie his hands behind his back. It’s fucking zip ties, how hard can it be to break them? So far he has only managed to make them cut into his wrists, though. He has to hurry! For the moment he’s alone in the small cellar room they’ve locked him in, but who knows for how long? He has to get away before anyone comes back. Or before Abaddon arrives.

He’s almost ready to admit that he made a mistake. He should’ve called Michael right when the trouble started. But he can handle a bit of trouble himself! He doesn’t have to go running to his boyfriend every time someone tries to rob the bar. It hadn’t even been a good attempt either. Just some kid waving a gun around, when Dean had been closing for the night. Dean had kept his cool and just talked, asked why he’s doing it, what he needs. He knows how it feels to be in desperate need of money and maybe he even would’ve helped.

But the kid had been almost panicky and that should’ve been his first clue that something wasn’t right (well, apart from the obvious). He now knows that sending the kid in had been a test to see if Michael was there with him. The kid had probably carried some kind of camera or mic. It also was a way to distract him.  
They’d come in at just the right moment to catch him off-guard. And so he’d ended up here.

He probably should’ve accepted the bodyguard Michael had offered. But he’d been too proud and there’s no use regretting that now anyway. Dean’s glad that he already had sent Kevin home at least.

Zip-ties do break at the right angle, Dean is sure of that. He grunts and tries again, pain shooting through his wrists. He probably needs more force and speed and it’ll probably hurt like a bitch. Oh well, no way around it.

Dean grits his teeth and abruptly pulls his arms towards his body. It feels like the ties cut through his flesh to the bone, but he also hears them break. Finally!  
He pulls his arms in front of him, and yes, there are cuts on the outside of his wrists. Blood is slowly trickling his arms, but it doesn’t look that bad. He twists his hands experimentally and it hurts, but he’ll live.

The blood also makes the whole situation more real.

Holy shit, he’s a hostage for someone who seriously thinks she can take the archangels down! A fucking hostage! He has to get away from here, and Abaddon has to fucking die fucking fast, because he won’t live with the fear of this happening again. He won’t.

There are footsteps outside the door of the small room they threw him in. Hastily Dean looks around for a place to hide or a weapon. There isn’t much in here, just a few empty shelves lining the walls.

He settles for waiting next to the door, tries to recall all of his dad’s training. It’s been a while. But he can handle this. He has to.  
The door opens. It’s just one goon. Good. Dean grabs him, pulls him inside. He pushes the guy against the wall hard, hears the back of his skull hit concrete. Before the man can even react, Dean punches him in the stomach, makes him double over, just to haul him up and shove his head back again. The guy’s skull hits the wall a second time, and Dean feels his own stomach twist at the sound. But he’s been kidnapped. They’re trying to get to Michael through him. They’re planning to do who knows what to him. Dean channels all of his anger and fear into grabbing the man’s head, hitting it hard against the wall for a third time.

His opponent crumples to the floor.

Dean doesn’t bother checking, if he’s still alive. He searches the guy for a weapon, finds a gun and heads out.

He finds himself in a scarcely lit hallway, walls and floor blank concrete. He sees stairs at the end, though, and hurries past a few doors towards them. There’s a door at the head of the stairs, and he opens it carefully.

It leads out into what looks like the hallway of an office building, and there are five more people standing guard there. Fuck! Dean closes the door again. Carefully.  
He should’ve called Michael right away. Wait, maybe he should now. Dean hurries back. The guy he attacked is still unconscious (or dead), and he searches him again, finds a phone. Good thing Michael had nagged him enough to learn his number by heart. But what good will calling his boyfriend do him, if he can’t tell him where he is? So Dean turns the GPS on the thing on and goes for the maps.

He has to go stand by the small window at the other side of the room, before he gets a signal. But in the end he gets his location. He sends it to Michael, adds a quick message: **Hey, Mike. Would appreciate, if you picked me up here. Looks like Abaddon couldn’t resist taking me for a ride. Not sure how many friends she brought, counted five so far.**

It sounds a lot more cheerful than he feels, but he’d rather face all of Abaddon’s goons alone than go all ‘Help me, Obi-wan Kenobi.’ now.  
He puts the phone back in the (probably dead) guy’s pocket. He’ll either get out of here and find another way to let Michael know he’s out of danger or he won’t get out of here and then he doesn’t want Abaddon to know he sent for help.

Dean checks how much ammo he has, thinking. Technically they want him alive. Killing him will accomplish nothing but piss Michael off. So he has an advantage there, because he sure as hell doesn’t care, if they die or not. He should at least try and get away. With that thought he heads for the stairs again.

* * *

Dean peaks out of the door. There are three people at the end of the corridor, with their back to him, because of course they’re expecting an attack from outside, not from the inside. He can probably slip out and through one of the doors across from him, maybe get away through a window form there.

There are two more people by the window at the other end of the corridor, though. One of them is looking out of said window, the other one is leaning against the wall next to it. Okay, that one will be tricky. Dean chews his lower lip in thought.

Before he can come up with a plan, there are footsteps in the adjacent corridor. The next moment a red headed woman rounds the corner, two more of her goons in tow. Abaddon. Fuck.

She’s probably here to see him. So much for slipping away unnoticed. Should he still make a run for it, guns blazing? What’s the alternative anyway? Head back to his cell and tie himself up again? No way!

The gun is heavy in Dean’s hand. From here he has a pretty clear shot at her. And maybe cutting the head off the serpent will make the others turn tail and run? It’s worth a shot. Literally.

Dean takes a deep breath, then he shoves the door open and fires.

Something must’ve given him away. One of the goons reacts too fast, shoves her to the side. Dean fires again, hits the goon square in the chest. The man drops, and behind him Dean can see Abaddon clutching her shoulder. So at least he hasn’t missed completely.

He tries to get another shot in, but one of guards draws his own gun, and Dean has to duck back through the cellar entrance to avoid getting hit. Bullets ricochet off the steel frame of the door, sparks flying. He presses against the stairwell wall, breathing hard. Fuck! Fuck! So close! Now what?

He blindly fires into the corridor two more times, then he slams the door shut, runs down the stairs again. The window in his cell is way too narrow for him to fit through. But there are other doors here. If this really is an office building, there has to be more than one way out of the cellar.

While he’s busy trying handles, the dead man’s cell phone rings.

The faint hope that it might be Michael makes him run back to his cell, dig the phone out and pick up. “Yes?” 

There’s a background noise in the line. Maybe Michael is driving. “Dean, are you alright?”

“Well, yeah, kinda … for now? Abaddon caught me trying to get away. And I shot her.” He goes back to trying door handles. Most of them are locked.

“Is she dead?” There’s hope in Michael’s voice.

“I wish. Got her in the shoulder.”

“Fuck!”

Wow, Michael cursing like that is rare. “I agree.” Then one of the doors opens. It leads into another corridor, and in the harsh light of a few neon light bulbs turning on automatically he can see another set of stairs at the end. “Jackpot! Found a way out.” He hurries through the corridor.

“Dean, wait,” Michael says.

Dean slows down a bit, confused. “What?”

“Don’t lose her completely. Chances are high she’ll go into hiding again. If you want her dead, make sure she follows you, lead her towards me.”

Oh, of course. And Dean wants the red headed bitch dead, that’s for sure. What bothers him here, though, is that Michael had just started to use his Godfather voice as Dean calls it. The kind of voice that’s full of power, but doesn’t betray much emotion, that makes people snap to attention and makes them willing to be used as pawns in whatever Michael is planning. But Dean isn’t a pawn, at least he doesn’t like to think of himself as one. “You’re using me as bait.”

“I want to use you as bait,” Michael agrees, voice still all business, “if you’re okay with it.”

“And there I thought you loved me,” Dean jokes – at least he tries to tell himself he’s joking. He’s at the bottom of the stairs now, and he thinks he can hear footsteps and voices behind him.

“I love you, Dean.” That’s something he could’ve done without hearing it in the Godfather voice. “This is a calculated risk to make sure this’ll be the last time she bothered you. Are you willing to take it or not?”

The underlying question is of course, if he’s willing to trust Michael’s judgement or not. And he is, but he still hates being bait. Dean takes a deep breath, while he hurries up the stairs. “Yes.”

* * *

There are two guards on this side of the building. They don’t see him coming, and they both drop dead, before they can draw their weapons, two gunshots ringing in the silence.

“Report!” Michael snaps on the other side of the line, and at least there’s a hint of worry in his voice now.

“Two more guys down.”

“Good.” Does he sound a little bit proud? Dean tries to cling to that.

“Gabriel has a visual on you,” Michael continues after a moment. “The exit is to your left, then turn right. There’s a dead end not far from the building you’re currently in. Get her there.”

“Yes sir,” Dean tries to mock him. Michael doesn’t even acknowledge it, already talking to one of his siblings again.

* * *

The neighbourhood Dean is running through is clearly not one of the best. The building he’s fled from must have been abandoned for a while already, windows nailed shut or broken. The rest of the streets doesn’t look much better. This must’ve been a business district once, but it isn’t anymore. Just a few lost people here and there that seek cover as soon as Dean and his pursuers come through.

He’s a bit proud of the fact that he has managed to shake most of Abaddon’s goons. She’s still in pursuit, though, not showing her injury. At least he hopes she’s still in pursuit. What if he lost her? He slows down a little, listening for footsteps behind him, not hearing anything. Shit. What now? Turn around and look for her?  
At least the deadend Michael has mention is right in front of him by now. He’s almost at the corner. He slows down even more, looking behind him. Did he really manage to lose her?

That’s when a figure steps out from the entrance of a nearby building. Dean gets his gun up a tad too slow. A boot hits his wrist, sends pain up his arm and his weapon flying. The same boot hits him in the groin next, and that’s just not fair.

For a moment there’s nothing but pain. Dean doubles over, barely able to breathe. Fuck …

When he slowly comes back to his senses again, his arms are painfully twisted behind his back, and there’s a gun at his temple. Apparently hurting Abaddon had just made her more angry. The phone, his connection to Michael, is lying on the ground.

“Now be a good boy, will you?” Abaddon purrs by his ear. He fights down the urge to try and throw her off. Instead he stares at the corner of the building they’re standing in front of. So close to getting her where Michael wanted her. Just a few more steps. 

“Not my kink, sorry,” he grits out to distract himself from his failure.

He can feel Abaddon shift a bit behind him. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see her look down at the phone. “This is a trap, isn’t it?” she asks. Then she raises her voice. “Hey, Archangel, if you want you boyfriend back alive, come out, wherever you’re hiding!”

Dean is almost sure that Michael won’t. He’s in Godfather mode right now after all, thinking nothing but logical, mind sharp as glass. And everybody knows that you never give in to people making demands over hostages. All that’ll accomplish is that they’ll come back with more things they want later.

Which means Dean is going to die. Suddenly he feels sick.

Then Michael steps around the corner of the building, hands raised, gun losely in his right. The look in his eyes makes Dean shiver. There’s so much hate burning in there. “What do you want from me?” Michael asks.

“Well …” The gun digs deeper into Dean’s temple. “Mostly I want you dead.”

For a moment they just stare at each other.

“Fine,” Michael says finally, still in his Godfather voice. “Let him go and you can shoot me.”

“What?” Dean asks at the same time as Abaddon laughs. Michael has some kind of plan, hasn’t he? That has to be it. Some kind of trick. Dean watches his boyfriend closely, looking for clues, waiting for some kind of sign that it’s time to act.

There’s nothing.

“Throw your gun away,” Abaddon says.

Slowly, Michael lowers his hands, takes the ammo clip out of his weapon, throws it into the alley he’s stepped out of.

“Mike!” Dean protests. “Are you crazy? Don’t!”

Michael shoots him a small reassuring smile. Then the gun drops.

The realization hits Dean with sudden nausea. This isn’t a trick, is it? Michael just tries to get him out of this alive. As if Dean’s life was the more important one.  
Dean also feels the gun at his temple shift. Abaddon is moving to point it at Michael, who’s just standing there, doing nothing. And that can’t happen. Dean won’t let it happen.

As soon as the pressure of the gun is mostly gone, Dean kicks out. His foot hits something behind him, there’s a scream and the grip around his wrists loosens. He turns around, swings, hits her in the jaw. Abaddon stumbles back, obviously favoring the left leg so he must’ve hurt something. But she catches herself on a streetlamp and then Dean is looking down the barrel of her gun.

No, wait he isn’t. The gun is not pointing at him, but at Michael behind him. Of course. Because Dean is just a pawn in this. A hostage. Michael is the target.

Well, he’ll show her. “Oh no, you won’t!”

Before he can dive forward, though, there’s a hand on his shoulder. “Dean, wait!”

Then another gunshot.

For a terrible moment that seems like an eternity Dean is convinced that it was Abaddon’s gun that had gone off. But there’s still the hand on his shoulder, gripping as tight as before. 

“Raphael,” Michael says, “your timing could’ve been better.”

Slowly Abaddon slides down along the lamppost. And now Dean sees the red circle on her forehead right between the eyes.

“Sorry,” Raphael’s voice comes from the speaker of Michael’s phone. “This building is a mess. I couldn’t take the direct route to the new position.”

When Dean looks up, he sees her at one of the windows, sniper rifle in her hands. She gives them a nod, then she’s gone.

He turns towards Michael. “You planned this? You used yourself as bait?”

Michael gives him a shrug and a smile. “You didn’t think I would ask something of you that I wouldn’t do myself, did you?”

Well, yes of course Dean did think that. Michael is the head of the whole operation. He isn’t expendable, he isn’t a pawn. “That bitch almost shot you!” Dean says.

“But she didn’t. You saved my life.” Michael’s arms encircle Dean’s waist to pull him closer.

“How can you be so fucking cool about this?” Now that the danger is over, Dean starts feeling a bit shaky. But also angry. How can Michael be so stupid, risking his life for him? “We both almost died! And what you did there, throwing your weapon away and hoping your sister will get in position fast enough – do you call that a calculated risk, too?”

“No.” There’s a faint grin on Michael’s face now. “I call that doing something rash, because I don’t want to see my boyfriend getting shot.”

Oh. Dean’s anger dissipates like mist in the sun. So much for thinking Michael had been treating him like a pawn. He’d just been focused on getting the job done, getting rid of Abaddon, who would’ve continued being a threat to all of them. And he hadn’t asked anything of Dean that he wouldn’t have been willing to do himself.

Dean exhales slowly. “Don’t do that again.”

Michael laughs. “Try and stop me.”

“Are you coming?” comes Raphael’s voice from the phone again. “Gabriel says there are still some of Abaddon’s people in the building they held Dean in.”  
Slowly Michael disentangles himself from Dean and there’s the fire burning in his eyes again, the hate he’d shown towards Abaddon, too. “I’m on my way. Time to drive the point home that you don’t touch my boyfriend and live.”

This time Dean doesn’t mind the Godfather voice at all.

**Author's Note:**

> There are still a few Mafia fics to come.


End file.
